Smiles
by Aseikh
Summary: Will notices that Alyss is acting mighty suspicious one day, and wonders what it is. It is only after they don't see each other for over 4 months due to overlapping missions that he realizes what his wife couldn't find the words to say.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, nor the characters used in this story.**

 **(A/N): A small request from whentheresawill that got a little out of hand . . . oops.**

* * *

Lying beside each other, bare, neither gave thought to the miracle that could have been possibly made that night. They had just thought of the moment, and how they were pressed against the body of the person they loved, nothing in between them. Not clothes, not blankets, not other people, or events, or problems. It was just them, in that moment, together, with no other care in the world.

With his arm wrapped around Alyss from behind, Will buried his face into her hair. He breathed, in and out, reveling in being so close to her. She was already asleep, lulled down by the warmth they shared. Will, however, had kept himself awake, watching the love of his life sleep, studying her peaceful, relaxed face. Eventually, though, he too was lulled down to sleep. So he laid back down, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her up against him.

Closing his eyes, his face still in her silk-like hair, Will smiled.

* * *

Some weeks later, a few days before he was due to leave on a month long mission, Alyss smiled at him—which immediately set off alarm bells in his head. It wasn't that she _smiled_ that set of the alarms, but what he saw behind it. He knew his wife well enough to know what certain smiles meant, and this one wasn't one that he enjoyed too much. Not that he didn't like seeing his wife smile—it was one of his favorite things to see—but it was what that smile implied that made his eyes narrow.

She was withholding something from him, and she was waiting for the perfect time to reveal it.

Swallowing his breakfast, Will sat up from his leaning position. He had been reading a letter from Crowley, clarifying what he was supposed to do during his mission, while eating a bowl of warm oatmeal with fresh blueberries mixed in. He had looked up when his wife had walked into the room from the outside, and she had smiled when she sat down across from him.

Will paused, dread coursing through his body.

"g'mornin'," Will mumbled, spooning some more oatmeal into his mouth. Now ignoring the letter, he eyed Alyss, wondering what she was going to say.

Alyss' smile returned, her eyelids drooping a millimeter, giving her a tired look. Also a devious look—her smile, which could be called a slight smirk, her eyelids a tad low, a single eyebrow raised, and her leaning on her elbow causing her body to be tilted to the side—a shiver went down Will's spine.

He was afraid of getting killed, yes, especially during missions or if he unknowingly made enemies and they came to kill him at home with Alyss. The only thing that kept him cool was the fact that Alyss would browbeat them to the curb.

So, knowing that, he also knew to be a bit wary around his wife.

"Good morning, darling," Alyss said, spooning some oatmeal into a bowl, and pouring some honey into the lumpy meal. She also leaned forward, and cut herself a piece of fresh bread from the loaf in between them.

"Coffee?" Will asked, trying to ignore the look in her eyes.

After taking a bite of the bread, she waited to swallow it to reply. "Hmm, not today, I don't think. I'm quite awake already."

Frowning, Will spooned in another bit of oatmeal. "Really? Have you been awake long? You weren't in bed when I woke up."

"Oh, I didn't feel well this morning," Alyss responded, instead pouring herself a glass of water from the jug that sat on the table. "And I couldn't fall back asleep, so I took a morning walk. Hope I didn't alarm you."

"How did I not hear or feel you get up?" Will shifted his seat, wondering if he would be going on a dangerous mission without adequate rest. Was he that tired that he hadn't heard her get up during the early morning?

Alyss shrugged, "Oh, hon, I think you're just tired. Maybe you should ask Halt to cover for you for a few extra days, so you can relax before you go." She smiled again, this time with a bit more deviousness in her grey eyes.

While he considered her proposal, trying to weed out her hidden meaning behind it, the husband and wife finished their breakfast in silence. Alyss ended up eating the full bowl of oatmeal, as well as several pieces of bread, which was more than usual. Will sat back, nursing his coffee in his hands while he studied his wife. What did she want? And why wouldn't she just come straight out with it, instead of hinting at it?

Will took another gulp of coffee, before setting the mug on the table. "Is everything okay, Alyss? You were sick this morning?"

She nodded, but continued to lather butter onto another piece of bread. "Oh yea, just a little queasiness. I felt pretty good after I got it out though, so you don't have to worry."

Raising an eyebrow, Will studied Alyss. She didn't _look_ sick. "You threw up?" he asked, suddenly feeling a stab of fear through his heart. He didn't want to leave her for so long if she were sick.

"Yes," she finished the bread, and stood from her seat, "but I'm fine, Will, don't worry. I'm sure it was just something I had eaten."

She was out the door, and on her way to work, before Will realized that he had cooked the meal last night. Sighing, Will stood, and collected their bowls. That was her way of telling him to go talk to Halt, he assumed.

* * *

The night before he left, Will laid stretched out on the couch, letting the fire bake his front. Halt had agreed that if he wasn't getting enough sleep, then he should rest for the few days before he left. So Will had spent his days preparing, and lounging around the cabin, taking walks and collecting flowers for Alyss, stitching up any holes or rips in his clothing, and doing the general chores. So now, so close to leaving, he had relaxed the entire day. By the time Alyss had gotten back, he had been fast asleep on the couch.

Apparently, she had gone to bed already, so when he woke up, his face hot with the fire so close, the main room was dark except for the flickering flames.

 _I'll lay here a bit longer,_ he decided, basking in the warmth. It would be cold outside, and he would be sleeping there without a fire for a few days before he got to his location, and even then it was likely he would be sleeping outside. _Better stock up on heat before he left,_ he thought sarcastically.

From the room nearby, he heard Alyss mumble something in her sleep, turning over and ruffling the sheets. She would be just as warm, if not more, if he got up and went into the room.

But would he get any sleep with her? Sometimes, it was being with her that kept him awake; Their bodies pressed together in either love making or just sleep—it kept him awake, being near her. It was just the vibe she gave off.

Being his last night—Will made the choice.

Swinging his leg around the edge, he stood. Before he moved around the couch, Will reached his hands into the air, stretching his back muscles to draw the stiff knots out of them. Walking around the furniture piece, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up and over his head. Holding his shirt in one hand, he slowly opened the door with the other.

Alyss laid in the bed, curled up with the blankets kicked off her. She was shivering, though. Tossing his shirt into a hamper, Will walked to the bed, looking down on his wife. He stood there for a moment, watching her sleep, worrying. She shivered, as if cold, but she had kicked off the comforter as if she were hot. A fever?

Will pulled up the comforter, along with the extra blanket they usually had folded at the bottom of the bed. The moment he settled them at her chin, she thrashed her legs, and mumbled something he couldn't understand. Touching her cheek, Will felt her forehead with his other hand, seeing if she felt warm with fever.

Her eyes flicked open, and she pushed away from him, moving across the bed. "What are you doing?" she said defensively, eyeing her husband.

Smiling to pacify her alarm, Will crossed his arms in front of his bare chest. "Are you sure you don't have a fever, Alyss?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but second-guessed herself, and shut it. Seconds later, a panicked look appeared in her eyes, and she hurriedly pushed back the covers and stumbled to her feet in front of Will. "Move it," she mumbled, pushing past him.

Moments later, he heard the sounds of her heaving, of her vomiting up whatever she had eaten. "Alyss?" Will called, following her out of the room. She had ran outside, instead of going to the privy, and had thrown-up in the bushes over the side of the porch. "Alyss, are you okay?" he asked gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away, and moved further to the edge of the porch, where she heaved once more over the side.

Not knowing what to do, Will ran inside, and collected a thin blanket from their spare bedroom. After tossing it over her shoulders, bare except for the thin straps that held up her shift, he pulled her hair back, and twisted it. It was easier to hold like that, but he made sure it was loose enough so the tightness didn't bother her. Putting her hair in the other hand, Will gently put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. It was chilly out, winter coming soon, and wearing what they did, he knew she would get cold fast.

Murmuring comforts to her, Will held her hair away from her face as she heaved over and over again over the side of the porch.

Soon enough, he was shivering himself, but stayed by her side. Just when he thought she was done puking, as she would draw her head up, she'd jerk back over the railing and heave once more. More often than not, they were dry heaves, Alyss having already puked up all of her meals from the day. But her body kept heaving, as if trying to rid itself of something it didn't have.

Slowly, she calmed down. Alyss coughed once, then twice, and leaned into Will's chest. ". . . I . . . I think . . . I think I'm done," she murmured, her arms wrapping around herself as she burrowed into her husband's warmth. Taking the corner of the blanket, she wiped her mouth, before turning herself into Will, and pulling him closer to her. Will wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him.

How could he leave with his wife this sick?

Thankfully, Alyss told him the next morning.

"Damnit, Will, you will leave, and you won't worry about me," Alyss snapped, throwing Will's traveling bag at him. "You already told Crowley you would go, you can't just say otherwise the _day_ you're supposed to leave."

Ducking as the bag sailed for his head, Will attempted to catch it, but failed. It crashed into the wall behind him, luckily not breaking anything. "Alyss, you're sick. I don't want to leave you if—"

"I won't be alone, you dimwit!" Alyss exclaimed, putting her hands to her head and closing her eyes. "Pauline is here. Halt is here. If need be, I'll go to the doctor. Don't worry about me!"

"But—"

"No 'but's! You're going. I won't be alone. I'll be fine, believe me." At that, Alyss snatched up the fallen travel bag, and shoved it into Will's hands. She kissed his cheek, then his other cheek, before giving one long, lasting kiss on the lips, pausing for a moment in her agitation to relax into it.

Before long, however, she pulled away, and turned back into the bedroom doorway. "I'll be here when you get back," she said curtly, before shutting the door.

Will stood there for a moment, stunned. He didn't blink for a few moments, unsure as to what just happened. But slowly, he regained his composure, grabbed the few other things that he had left out in the cabin, and turned out the door.

He would only be gone a month, he knew. Alyss would have Pauline and Halt, and Jenny and George if need be. She would be safe, okay, without him for a little while. She didn't need him to survive. She could take care of herself, as she had proven time and time again.

But that didn't stop him from worrying over her, considering he never figured out what she had been smiling about a few days before.

* * *

A month later, Alyss was called into Pauline's office.

"You know you could just talk to me after work," Alyss said, walking in without knocking. They had a casual enough relationship during work, and were literally family, so normally Pauline never bothered to 'call' Alyss to her office. Unless it was an emergency.

"I know," Pauline said, turning away from the window she had been looking out. It was situated right behind her desk, so if it was open on a sunny day, the people walking in would only experience a tall silhouette. Pauline pulled the curtains shut, throwing the room into shadow. It was the problem with having an office that relied on natural light—the lighting could be unpredictable. "But I needed to clear this with you right away. And make sure you are aware of a small problem—"

Alyss held up her hand before her mentor could continue. "If you mean Will getting stuck, and not being able to come home for a long while, I am aware. Halt told me this morning, and Arald told me on my way here today."

"You're not worried?" Pauline asked, giving Alyss a concerned look. "I know you got sick earlier, and now Will not being here . . ."

"I'm fine, Pauline," Alyss stated, getting a little annoyed with having to answer that question. First Will, then Pauline, when she found out that she was sick, and then Halt. "Is that what you asked me in here for?"

Smiling, Pauline shook her head. "I shouldn't have asked, knowing you," she murmured to herself, looking away from Alyss for a moment. She shuffled a few papers on her desk, until she picked one up from the bottom, and held it out to her protégé. "This is why your husband hasn't returned yet. Someone leaked information on his whereabouts into the Thief's Vine, and multiple bandit groups converged on him. He got away safely, but needs some sort of distraction to be able to get out."

Shaking her head, Alyss took the proffered paper with a sigh. _Go figures,_ she though ruefully, _I have to save my husband_ again. "So what does that mean for me?" she asked, looking the paper over. It described a certain fort nearby Castle Araluen, the owner and Lord of the fort, and his involvement in Will's predicament.

"You go into the fort, disguised as a maid, and mess around with his papers every so often. Enough so that orders get confused, but not so much that it's noticeable," Pauline explained. Alyss nodded along. An easy enough mission, and her reward at the end would be a not-dead husband back home. The Head of the Diplomatic Service continued: "You'll have to eventually mix up orders so Will would get an opening to escape his hiding spot, and after that you best get out of there. A move like that would probably be noticeable."

Once more, Alyss nodded. Absently, her hand drifted towards her lower stomach, and she seemed to hesitate for a moment. But then her eyes hardened, and her hand dropped. "When do I leave?"

Pauline crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking proudly across the desk to Alyss. "Not for a few more weeks, because we need to wait for a clearing for you, but I would be prepared to leave at any moment if I were you."

* * *

Dirty and bruised, Will sighed in his hiding spot. Or, he sighed in his disguise.

He had taken the role of jongleur on once more. But someone must've leaked his location, because every other day another bandit attack was reported in the area. Due to that, 'Damen Smith' had made the excuse to stay longer than what was usual for a jongleur, and had made a deal with the owner of the Leaping Deer Inn. As long as he sang more than three times a week, and helped around the Inn, he would keep all earned money from his performances and make a small amount for what he helped with during the day. He also got to stay in the barn for free, where he took to snuggling up with Tug in the cold.

Because of the work he had been doing, he had constantly knocked his knees, elbows, arms, legs, head and any other body part that could be knocked. A goat in the backyard had even deigned to kick him in between the legs.

Even though his disguise was thorough—he had dyed his hair blond, and had cut it in the more modern style that some of the younger men fancied, and had let his skin tan darkly in the sun—it was still possible for him to be found out. And it seemed, day after day, that they got closer and closer to figuring out where he was. Pat, the Innkeeper, seemed to notice his agitation, and when someone came in to ask if any performers had come by recently, he had lied and said that the last traveling performer had been around about two months ago. Not a word was passed between them, but Will found that he felt better about the whole situation when he started to leave his work pay in a folded envelope slid underneath Pat's door.

"Damen!" Pat yelled across the room. Currently, Will was mopping the floor of the main room, before the rest of the village was due to wake up for the day and crowd in for breakfast. Swiping his brow with a hand, he looked up to face Pat, who was standing behind the bar with a pile of papers. "You got another letter," he said, and motioned to one letter that he had tossed to the side.

"Thanks again, Pat," Will nodded, leaning against the mop. "I'll take it up when I'm finished here."

Pat nodded back, and continued to page through the rest of the mail that had come that day.

Will finished mopping the floor, making sure to get every corner, and to not rush just because a letter came. After finishing, he dumped the mop back into the pail of dirty water, and picked the bucket up. He walked past Pat, going being the counter, and through to the hall behind the door that was there. He walked down the hall, past a few doors, and came to the back door. Right beside it was a small alcove, where he left the mop. It would drip down to the floor, collecting in a pan that had been set there. He would be expected the wring the water out of it before the day was done. Pushing through the back door, Will grabbed the bottom of the pail, and threw the water out to the back. It splashed to the ground, slopping into the puddle that had formed at the back door. No one could exit through that door without falling into knee-deep mud.

Throwing the pail into the alcove with the mop, Will wiped his hands on a dirty white rag that hung at his belt. Absently, Will tugged the rag off his belt, finished wiping his hands, and then tied the cloth around his head, which withheld the blond hairs that had been falling in his face.

He turned back down the hall, wondering what the letter would say this time—hopefully, how much longer he would be stuck in this situation.

* * *

It was two weeks before they found the opening, but soon enough Alyss was on her way. Her silver-blond hair had been dyed deep brown, and cropped at her shoulders—long enough to still be presentable, and able to be tied behind her head when she would start working. She would be going into Fort Weliam as a new maid, hired _specifically_ to clean the lord's chambers, private or otherwise.

Awkwardly, mainly because it would fit her character, Alyss stood in the doorway of the lord's chambers. All were connected in one way or another, but an entire floor was taken up just for him. She wasn't sure what she was in for, but just the smell coming through the door warned her it wouldn't be easy.

"Ok, Mary," Shelia said, crossing beefy arms in front of full breasts, "your duty is to clean Lord Weliam's chambers. Okay, that's that. Good luck." Shelia began to turn away, back down the steps of the servant's corridor.

"O-oh! Wait, please, ma'am," Alyss cried, startled. At least, 'Mary' was. Alyss just had to play a character, and that's what she would do. "I don't know how he would like things placed, if he has any preferences or not. And where do I start? Are there rules, places where I'm not allowed, or not supposed to clean? I don't want to anger Lord Weliam on my first day. Please . . ."

Shelia shrugged, licking her thick, black, lips. "I don't know, girl. If you do something wrong, he'll tell you. And you won't miss it, if and when he does tell you. And just don't go poking around his personal documents, and be a good girl."

"What about what order I go in? Does it matter?"

Scoffing, Shelia eyed her. "Nah, girl. Just clean the room before he gets there. Here's a copy of his normal schedule," she handed Alyss a dirty, ripped piece of paper. It was stained with a multitude of things, giving it a tie-dyed look. "Come down to the kitchens at the end of the day, and I'll show you where you sleep. Good luck."

Pursing her lips, Alyss raised her eyebrow at Maid Shelia's receding back. Then she turned back to the door, eyeing the hardwood, and wondering what was waiting for her behind it. Moving the pail of water into one hand, she took the door handle in her hand that held the paper, and turned.

The door creaked open, revealing . . . a bed chamber. Alyss crinkled her nose at the smell, which became overpowering when she opened it. The floor was covered in dirty garments, all pouring out of multiple embossed chests and dressers. The bed sheets were thrown around, with some kind of milky substance smeared across. Being a grown woman, happily married, she knew what the substance was without having to think. In the corner, the privy bucket had overflown, spilling yellow piss onto the floor, staining white shirts that had been thrown too close.

Alyss closed her eyes to the rest of the room.

Peeking them open once more, her eyes lead her to a cracked door on the other side of the room. It opened up to an office . . . where she saw a pile of papers spread out, surrounded by empty wine glasses and bottles. She looked at the papers, and then looked back at the room she had to cross. Looking at the schedule, Weliam would return to his rooms first.

She had to get working, before she even thought to pick up those papers.

* * *

Nearly two and a half months since he set out on the job, Will laid eyes upon the red brick of Redmont. Still dirty, still bruised, but home. Will smiled, thinking of the reunion he would have with Alyss. He had missed her—her embrace, her eyes, her hair, her body, the more _less_ inappropriate parts of her, just _her._

He traveled through Wensley without stopping, saying hello to some of the villagers that would acknowledge him. He crossed the bridge, and walked up to the gate where two guards stood at attention. He nodded to the two of them, recognizing them, but continued inside without saying a word. He considered going to Halt first, to see if he was there with Pauline and Alyss, but knew that he should go to Baron Arald first.

He turned for the keep, shouldering his bag and letting one of the stableboys take Tug's bridle. Just as he was going to open the door to the tower, he saw a flash of white and blond out of the corner of his eyes. Will spun, hoping to see Alyss coming towards him, hoping that she had seen him in the courtyard, and ran down from whatever work she had been doing to see him.

Instead, Lady Pauline strode towards him, her smile wide. "Will, you're back. I guess that means the distraction was successful."

Will nodded, returning her smile. "Yea, although I'm still wondering how my location got out. Know anything about that?"

The courier's smile flickered. "Ah, yes . . . Alyss should be able to bring more light to that when she gets back."

"Alyss?" Will asked, suddenly not wanting to know how they had created the distraction.

"She agreed to go undercover to organize the situation that would in turn create the distraction. She was successful, but isn't sure when she will get a clear get-away from the situation. We have contact with her though—"

Will covered his face with his hands, letting his bag drop to the floor. He didn't listen to Pauline any longer.

* * *

Four months since he had left, Alyss finally walked through the gates of Redmont, a single guard trailing behind her.

Her hair was no longer blond, nor going down to the small of her back in silky waves. Instead it was a deep, dark brown, and stopped at her shoulders by curling inwards to frame her face. She wasn't wearing her normal white dress either, instead wearing a mud brown dress, and a dirty white apron.

The biggest difference, however, or at least the biggest one Will noticed, was the baby bump that caused her dress to hitch up slightly.

And it _was not_ just gained weight. Not in the way she gingerly placed a hand on the top of her belly when her eyes landed on him.

Will stepped over to her, ignoring whatever Halt had been saying to him when she had walked in.

"Alyss?" he asked gently, his hands resting on her shoulders. She came to a halt, looking into his eyes. There were dark circles underneath her stormy eyes, and her mouth was a frown, instead of the usual constant smile.

She took a breath, and Will remembered what it was like to live with her fast enough to back away a step. "Damnit, Will, why do I _always_ have to save you from situations like this? It's literally your _job_ to do things like this and yet someone is always screwing it up and putting you in life-threatening situations, like what the hell? Why can't you just handle yourself for once?" she snapped, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "And even _better_ is that _apparently—"_

"You're pregnant," Will whispered, letting one of his hands drop to her stomach. It wasn't a large baby bump—she was probably only a few months into the pregnancy, maybe four. And then he remembered her smile, the mischievous one that she had flashed him a few days before he had left for nearly three months. She had been intending to tell him . . .

And then everything fell into place.

Her irritability.

The morning sickness.

Increased appetite.

Her smile.

Will looked up to her, a slight, worried smile on his face. "Was it safe for you to go on a mission like that if you were pregnant?" he asked, concerned. Now that he knew that not only was the love of his life risking her life for him, but risking their child along with it . . . he grew apprehensive at the thought.

Alyss' eyes flashed, and she stuck out her bottom lip. "Just because I'm pregnant, Will, doesn't mean I'll be changing my work or my working habits. I can handle myself, I know what my limitations are, and Pauline is more than welcome to accommodate me for any problems I may have during work. You have no reason to worry, other than to keep yourself alive so you survive long enough to raise this child with me." She brought her hand away from her baby bump, crossing her arms above it. "I'll work like usual until I'm literally going into labor, Will, and that's my decision. Can you accept that? Or are you going to argue?"

Except, Will was still in shock with the fact that his _wife_ was pregnant. She would be a mother. He would be a father. They would have a family together, a child. Maybe more than one.

Will soon found that he couldn't swallow, that his eyes were watering.

"Will?" he heard Alyss murmur. He felt her hand touch his cheek. Covering her hand with his own, he put his hand back on her stomach, but leaned forward until their foreheads touched. He knew they were being watched, but he couldn't care less. He let the tears slide—let Halt see it, Pauline, who had walked out, the guard who had followed Alyss, the stableboys. Let them all see him in the condition he was in now. He didn't care.

Smiling, he closed his eyes, causing more tears to fall down his face, splashing the ground, landing on Alyss' slightly proffered belly, landing on his hand atop of it.

Alyss, watching her husband's face, smiled as well.


End file.
